


The Voice

by StarrAngelofNarnia



Category: Celtic Woman (Band), Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Book/Movie: Prince Caspian, Canon Compliant, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Exploring Memories, Prophecy, Prophetic Dreams, Revised Version, Song Lyrics, Songfic, The Voice, Visions in dreams, dream - Freeform, improved version
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:28:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25120123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarrAngelofNarnia/pseuds/StarrAngelofNarnia
Summary: Prince Caspian has a dream that gives him a look into the Pevensie children’s past better than any history lesson.
Kudos: 15





	The Voice

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Voice](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/644356) by Celtic Woman. 



> This story is a Songfic set to the song The Voice by Celtic Woman. I had the idea back in high school when my choir sang an arrangement of the song because it felt like each verse could describe one of the four Pevensies. Unfortunately, the idea is a lot better than the actual story, but hopefully it will still be enjoyable. 
> 
> Caspian's dream from his point of view.

It hadn’t been long since the kings and queens of old had come to Narnia, answering my call on Susan’s magic horn. And yet, I knew that this was them in my dream. They appeared to me before a vastness of white, never-ending and bright, giving the occupants an almost halo-like outline.

All four of them, Lucy, Edmund, Susan, and Peter were kneeling, appearing to me as children just as they had come. But why were they kneeling? That was unusual for kings and queens; typically, they were the ones on the receiving end, the ones being knelt or bowed to. But then I saw him. The lion. Aslan. I’d never seen him in my dreams let alone in real life, yet I knew this was him.

Aslan first approached Lucy. “Listen my child,” he began as she looked up to him. “ _I am the voice of your history. Be not afraid, come follow me. Answer my call and I’ll set you free._ ”

The scene suddenly changed and now Lucy was walking alone with Aslan. But there was another Lucy, smaller and younger than one I had met. This must have been a memory. Little Lucy looked around her in wonder, examining the snow-covered trees, as if this environment was a complete surprise.

Slowly, she approached the oddest sight, a lamppost, standing lit, in the middle of the wood. She reached out to touch it…but I saw nothing else of the moment, as the lamppost faded away and she was now standing in a small cottage, comforting a sobbing faun. “But you’re the nicest faun I’ve ever met,” Lucy was saying.

“Oh no, I’m not. I’m kidnapping you; handing you over to the White Witch,” the faun replied in devastated tears. But his voice faded out, and the scene melted away into a snowy forest, where the same faun was now guiding Lucy on a brisk walk. “You must go straight home and don’t talk to anyone,” the faun directed, looking around him as if he might be overheard. “I’m glad to have met you, Lucy Pevensie.”

As he shook her hand in farewell, the scene faded and where the faun had stood moments ago, now stood Father Christmas. And Lucy was now flanked on either side by Peter and Susan, and two beavers. “Lucy, daughter of Eve, in this bottle, there is a cordial made from the fire-flowers that will heal with one drop. This dagger is to be used if you are in danger, for you are not to fight in battle,” Father Christmas said as he handed her the gifts.

The scene faded to black, but I noticed Aslan was still leading Lucy through various scenes. It was dark now, likely past midnight, and Susan and Lucy were sneaking around, following someone. The someone up ahead spoke in a soft gentle voice, “Children, why are you following me?” Aslan.

“We couldn’t sleep,” Lucy explained softly.

“Please, may we go with you?” Susan asked.

“Yes, I could use the company tonight,” he finally agreed after a moment. “But you must promise to stop and leave me to go alone when I tell you to.” The scene melted once more, to show Susan and Lucy weeping over the body of Aslan, the famed sacrifice that made their reign possible. The table they were on appeared to be the same one here in Aslan’s How.

The table shifted out of view and we were in the midst of a battle scene. The young Edmund was injured and appeared to be dying. Memory Lucy fell to her knees next to him and carefully poured a drop of cordial into his mouth. Anxiously hoping, she continued to sit with him as the cordial healed. The siblings all breathed a sigh of relief as Edmund began to recover from his wounds. A well and healthy Aslan came to stand behind her, gently commanding, “Come Lucy. There are others who need your healing.” With one last look at her brother, she followed Aslan to help the others. 

The scene dissolved into a marvelous castle with four thrones, each of the Pevensies standing in front of one of the thrones, facing a large crowd of Narnians. The faun from the first scene approached her with a tiny silver tiara. Lucy bowed her head and the faun placed the tiara on her head, as a gentle booming voice not visible to me announced, “From the glistening Eastern Sea, I give you Queen Lucy, the Valiant.”

The memories faded and Aslan led Lucy back to her siblings, who once again took her place bowing before him. The other three remained still as statues, as if they had been frozen where they were. The Lion stepped to his right, so he now stood in front of Edmund who looked up at him, just as his sister had before. “I am the voice in the wind and the pouring rain. I am the voice of your hunger and pain. I am the voice that always is calling you. I am the voice and I will remain.”

Edmund stood up and entered some not-so-happy memories. In all the ways Lucy’s had been jovial, Edmund’s were far from it. It was late in the night and Lucy had just woken up Peter and Susan. “Edmund has been to Narnia too! It is real! Tell them, Edmund!” Lucy said with such childlike excitement I wished I could have shared the journey with her. The oldest two looked towards Edmund expectantly. He smiled mischievously, a look of mock sympathy, and replied, “We were just playing. Lucy doesn’t know when she’s taken games too far.” Susan and Peter looked at Lucy who now looked close to tears.

“Edmund?!” she cried, but he just grinned evilly, watching her flee to her room.

“You shouldn’t have encouraged her if it’s not real Edmund,” Peter criticized, his voice growing louder. “You’re not helping anything!”

Gradually, the darkness of the bedroom lightened to reveal Edmund chained up in a prison cell, sitting against the wall, shivering with cold. The witch stormed in, flew open the gate to his cell, and picked him up by the neck of his sweater. “Where are they? I told you not to come back without your brother and sisters,” she yelled in his face.

“They wouldn’t come. They would only do what my sister wanted so they went to the beaver’s house and they were talking about Aslan.” He tumbled over his words, explaining the situation as quickly as possible. She dropped him to the ground and turned to a dwarf behind her.

“Prepare a sleigh quickly,” she commanded.

“Please you majesty, can I have some more Turkish delight and hot chocolate?” Edmund asked with foolish bravery. The witch clapped her hands and a piece of moldy bread and a goblet of water were brought out.

The prison melted away to the sight of slushy snow, with small patches of greenery peeking through. The witch, the dwarf, and Edmund were now riding along on a sleigh, moving rather slowly, when they came across a small group of festive animals. The witch stopped the sleigh abruptly. “Where did you get all this stuff?” she demanded.

“F-f-father Ch-ch-Christmas gave it to us,” a fox stuttered. The witch raised her wand, pointing it at the entire table.

“No!” Edmund yelled. The witch shot him an icy glare before turning the entire party to stone. She turned on Edmund, her hand making contact with his face in a slap so hard, it sent him reeling. “You belong to me now.”

The scene changed once more with a blinding light, the sunrise, which found Edmund at Aslan’s camp. When his siblings were awake, Aslan walked him down to them. “Here is your brother, and there is no need to talk to him about what is past.” As soon as Aslan walked away, Lucy ran to Edmund and hugged him. Seemingly seconds later, Aslan was talking to the witch, whom pointed to Edmund screaming, “He is a traitor! His blood is my property!” 

The witch’s words trailed off as the scene faded to Edmund now sitting on a horse in battle armor watching a fight below. He swiftly jumped off his horse at the sight of the witch and ran into the battle with Peter yelling after him. With a slash of his sword, he cracked the witch’s wand in half, which she was using to do the most damage to the Narnian army. The witch stabbed him with the broken end of her wand in fury and he fell to the ground.

The final scene looked much the same as Lucy’s final scene had. Edmund was standing in front of a throne and he knelt as the same faun from all the memories placed a silver crown on his head. “From the great western wood, I give you King Edmund the Just.”

The memories faded back to the vast white where the rest of the siblings were waiting, and Aslan walked Edmund back to join his siblings. He moved in front of Susan and she came to life as Edmund took up his position in between his sisters and froze in place once more. Aslan began to speak bringing the eldest sister’s attention to him. “ _I am the voice in the fields when the summer’s gone, the dance of the leaves when the autumn winds blow. Ne’er do I sleep throughout all the cold winter long, I am the voice that in springtime will grow._ ”

Susan stood up and Aslan led her through her own memories. Susan and Peter were sitting across from an older man. “So you believe Lucy?” Susan asked with astonishment.

“Well of course. If she’s the more trustworthy of your two younger siblings than now would be an odd time for that to change,” the man answered.

“But how is it possible that she found a wood in the wardrobe? It’s just not logical!”

“Well, she’s never been mad and she’s not mad now. You might try believing her. What _do_ they teach nowadays at these schools?”

His voice echoed out as the scene changed to the four kings and queens of old standing in a snowy wood. “I think he’s telling us to follow him,” Lucy said stepping forward.

“He’s a beaver! He shouldn’t be saying anything!” Susan said exasperatedly.

The light of the wood melted away to a dark, dimly lit damn where two beavers and three siblings were chatting in low voices.

“He had the look in his eye, that one. Of course, I know where he went. Which means we must hurry. I’d say, they’ll be heading here first!” a male beaver stated, standing abruptly from the chair he occupied.

“What do you mean? Where has he gone?” Susan panicked.

The female beaver gave her a look of sympathy. “Why, to the White Witch of course.”

The damn melted away, into the next scene where the snow was melting all around them as well. Plants were blooming in brilliant shades of colors. “Look, it’s so beautiful,” Susan said in awe as they continued walking mostly in silence.

And with another shift in the scene, now Susan and Lucy were scrambling up a tree, both screaming. When they were on a sturdy branch Susan blew into her horn, the same one I had blown that brought them here. Below them, a large wolf barked and snapped at their heels. Lucy almost slipped but Susan managed to keep a grip on her so she would not be attacked, but the fear was evident on both queens’ faces.

The scene changed to the final familiar throne room. Just like her two siblings before her, she was standing in front of a throne and she knelt down as a tiara was also placed on her head. “From the radiant southern sun, I give you Queen Susan the Gentle.”

Aslan led Susan back to her place, she knelt down, and froze. Last but not least, he stopped in front of Peter. “ _I am the voice of the past that will always be filled with my sorrow and blood in my fields. I am the voice of the future. Bring me your peace and my wounds, they will heal._ ”

Perhaps going farther back in time than any other memory thus far, this first found Peter standing in a train station with his sisters and brother and another older woman. “Peter,” the woman said. “Be careful and look after your brother and sisters.”

“I will mum,” he replied, with a small but fearful smile.

She pulled him into a tight hug, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I love you, Peter,” she whispered to him.

The scene shifted to a long narrow hallway, where all four of the Pevensies seemed to be traversing in a flustered run. “There!” Peter whispered hurriedly, and all 4 of the children darted into a room that was empty except for a wardrobe. But I could hear voices. “In the wardrobe! Quick!” he whispered again, ushering all of them into the piece of furniture, pulling the door shut behind him.

As they moved further and further back, the scene shifted to the same wood with the lamppost, where Peter and Susan now looked around in awe. “Wow Lucy.” Peter said. “It is real. I guess we all owe you an apology. Will you forgive us?” Her response was a giggle and a snowball to his head.

The scene grew dim to reveal Peter, Susan, and Lucy back in the damn from Susan’s memory. “Aslan is on the move!” the Male beaver exclaimed. “When two sons of Adam and two daughters of Eve rule together in Cair Paravel, the witch’s reign will end!” he finished victoriously.

Peter looked shocked, and overwhelmed. “But we’re not heroes,” he said dejectedly. “I’m sorry but we can’t help you. This prophecy can’t be about us.”

Once more, the scene shifted to Susan and Lucy in a tree, but now I was seeing them from the ground, where Peter was below them circling a wolf with his sword raised. He did not make a move, but when the wolf went to attack, it landed on Peter’s raised sword, and I watched as the life left its body. With the beast lying dead on the ground, Lucy scrambled down the tree and wrapped her arms around Peter, clinging to him. He looked scared, but for the first time, he looked proud.

Another shift and now Peter walked with Aslan into a large tent, with a party of well-armored Narnians following them. I couldn’t hear what was being said as they talked but it seemed important. They poured over a map, making marks and lines in various places. Peter looked nervous and Aslan looked grave. I had been in war, I knew the only thing that could put two kings in such a state was a battle, they weren’t quite equipped to come out of victorious.

The scene changed to a large field, surrounded in stone statues. Peter was kneeling on the ground, the body of Edmund in his arms. All three siblings looked over the youngest boy with bated breath as Lucy administered potion. With a few coughs and sputters, Edmund awoke. Peter laughed in relief, pulling his brother into a tight hug. “Don’t ever scare me like that again. Why can’t you do as you’re told?” Edmund smiled back timidly but hugged him even tighter.

The final scene became clear, the throne room, where Peter was already kneeling. He stood again, pulling himself up to his full height, a glistening golden crown sitting atop his head. “To the clear northern sky, I give you High King Peter the Magnificent.”

The memories ended and Aslan walked Peter back to the line of royals, where he knelt once more. “Rise kings and queens of Narnia.” Aslan commanded and all four of them, moved as if coming alive, and stood. He then turned to face me. “You can learn from them Caspian. From all of them. They all have different lessons to teach. Each of them had different experiences before becoming kings and queens, some good and some bad, some brave and some cowardly. I am putting my faith in you to take up the throne of my land. You will become king and once a king of Narnia, always a king or queen of Narnia. Don’t let your people’s past determine what kind of king you are.” 


End file.
